Those hips rise for me.
I slam hard into her. “You can.”
“Nikolai…” She’s trembling underneath me, and I slide a hand between us to rub her clit. I set a nasty rhythm, one I know works for her, one that will make her come even if she’s too sensitive. It’s there. I feel it, lurking in her.
With my cock, I mimic the times I’ve finger fucked her beyond reason. Torn her down. Made her shatter. At first, as I keep that deliberate hammer pace as she pushes at me, even as her cunt says yes. Then, the change.
She starts to melt, starts to shake. Her body takes her over and the wave starts. The contractions grip my cock like some wild and relentless torture. She feels so fucking amazing, so unbelievably tight and hot. She comes so fucking hard she screams, convulsing on the bed. I keep it up. I grit my teeth and hold off from spilling into her, even as my balls tighten, the urge to come so strong I might go mad.
I want more of her. I want her to come again. I want her milking me like she wants to strangle my cock. Fuck… She’s so fucking hot. Tight. Tighter with each clench of her pussy’s walls. Her orgasm is mythic, sharing its waves of intensity with me, and I’m there for all of it, but my control is slipping.
I can’t stop it this time. The cum is rising, and the pleasure is starting to burst as my cock starts to pulse. I lose it. I start to just go wild. I thrust into her with abandon, pull her thighs high and ride out her next orgasm, sending her spiraling again, more hard clenches on my cock as she wails. I flood her with my cum, convulsing in an orgasm so intense, I think I might black out.
Her pussy wrings out every last drop from me, and I collapse on top of her, finding her mouth, taking her in kiss after kiss. There’s no finesse, just mouths that need each other, like a drug, like addicts riding the high. She’s so fucking delicious, I could exist on her mouth for months.
I slide my hands in her hair again and angle her face to take more, and she gives so sweetly, willingly, that if I had it in me, I’d come from that.
The kisses start to slow to shallow, sipping things, tiny tastes, licks, feathery caresses.
Then I stop, breathing hard and uneven, and I drop my face into the damp heat between her throat and shoulder, hand tangled in her hair, her scent now mingled with mine and the heady aroma of sex.
When I’m done, when I have the strength, I roll off her, breathing long and hard. She…she whimpers, little sounds of pleasure that coil into me.
Her hands whisper against me like she needs me.
I turn to her. “Rose?”
“N-Nikolai…I…”
There’s a vibration in her, that hum lingering from her orgasm, I can feel it. I want to obliterate every single thing anyone did to her at Finnegan’s, obliterate and replace it all with nothing but me and pleasure.
Her body trembles as I touch her.
“Rose,” I murmur, whispering my fingers down her hot, soft cheek, over her swollen lips, down to circle one tit and then the other. “You’re not done.”
I push her on her back and rise, spreading her thighs as I slide down the bed a little, going back down to her cunt. It’s a beautiful, glorious mess. The lips are swollen. It’s too dark to see all the details, but I can imagine the redness. I can feel the glorious wetness of our mixed fluids. I start to dip in, paint her.
She quivers, stiffens. “I can’t, Nikolai. I’m too sensitive. I-If you’re trying to punish me, you have. You already made me come more than I thought I could.”
“Rose,” I say, looking at her in the darkness. “You’ll always fucking know when I punish you. This is not that.”
“It is. I’m done.”
“You’re not.” This is ownership, making my mark, wiping out every single bad thing that happened when she was gone. This is her giving her soul to me. I slip my fingers over her hot, wet flesh, pushing into her a little, making her moan and gasp and jump.
“I’m sore.”
“My sweet Rose.” I let the steel slide into my voice. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re going to come.”
As I hold her, I start to finger her, pushing in, curling my fingers in that hot tightness. I use my thumb against her clit and bring my face in close to hers.
I’m getting hard again. I kiss her as I finger her, and then I pull her on me and I line up, only moving my fingers to replace them with the girth of my cock.
“It’s too much. I can’t.”
“You fucking can.” I thrust into her, pulling her down to kiss her hard. I tongue fuck her mouth as I thrust into her pussy, then tease her clit.
“No…nooo…oh, yes…”
Pressing down on her clit, I push in and up hard. She cries out as she unravels again. I roll us while she’s coming on top of me, trembling, and I release into her a second time. Afterwards, she’s boneless, and I’m not far behind. A wild satiation is in my blood. Wild because I don’t think I’ll ever be done with her. Not for a long time, anyway.
I stay in her as she curls against my chest, her sweet, rose-scented hair spreading out as I trace the shape of her mouth with a finger. Rose sighs and rubs her cheek against me as her hand rises to touch my chin.
I need a new tattoo, I think. A rose. Something small. It’s a stupid thought, but with her like this, on me, still inside her, it’s like I need the moment commemorated.
Her breathing slows, evens, and my Rose has fallen asleep on me. Fuck. I’m in her, half soft, and she’s sleeping. It’s that gentle, deep sleep she was in when I came into the room, stripped off her damn robe and then my clothes and, against my better judgment, turned off the lights and climbed in.
The drugs have left her system. Mia said she’d slept most of the day, only getting up to eat and shower. I’m glad. She doesn’t reek of that vile sweet perfume Finnegan made her wear. She smells like her now. Like me.
Like sex.
This is just a moment. That’s all. I need her to be soft and compliant. I need to get her to the place of her half trusting me, for the plan. Although, I don’t know if I’m letting Finnegan get his violent hands on her again, so some things may need to be tweaked.
If I have to, I’ll do it. My revenge is that important. There’s room to stretch it and shift it, to give her a share in that. She wants to make him hurt for what he did to her, and I love it.
My Rose is growing. Kittens turn into cats quickly, and tiny claws and teeth become honed weapons. I stroke a path down her back, and as I’m about to drift off to sleep, she moves.
“Nikolai,” she whispers, soft and warm, in her dreams.
Something in me shifts.